


A Softer World

by whatsup_buttercup



Series: sad nesting [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Did I Mention Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Nesting, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Twins, Viktor Nikiforov: literal sugar daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 18:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17513600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsup_buttercup/pseuds/whatsup_buttercup
Summary: “I bought a few more things,” Viktor says, tone a little sheepish even though he can’t fight the urge any more than Yuuri can, to prepare.A fewis absolutely an understatement, there’s no way he could limit himself.-Epilogue toI Like Me Better (When I'm With You)





	A Softer World

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Athra for the beta!

The unfortunate fact of Yuuri being on bedrest is that when they needed to find a new, bigger apartment, Viktor took care of it for the most part. Enthusiastically.

They needed space undeniably. Yuuri did what he could via internet research, and they poured over listings together, but Viktor did most of the the actual legwork and brought Yuuri in via FaceTime as needed. Viktor’s tastes are very expensive, and it’s lucky he had the pocketbook to match.

Yuuri tried to talk him down, guilty at the idea of Viktor spending so much, until Viktor explained, quite clearly, that there’s nothing else he’d rather be spending his money on than those that gave him life and love.

After that, Yuuri had only protested the big things -- no, we don’t need a pool -- and largely left him to it.

Hired movers packed up their things and unboxed them at their new place, until the sparkling new kitchen was stocked with his coffee mug next to Viktor’s and Yuuri’s poodle dish towel hanging within sight of Makkachin’s luxury food bowls. He ached to help the workers deftly arranging their furniture, but at nearly eight months pregnant that wasn’t even an option. At this miserable stage of pregnancy, his everything hurts: his feet, his back, and especially his pride.

There’s one room the movers didn’t dare touch, and that’s exactly where Yuuri waddled to the second he was alone in the apartment for the first time. Truth is, he’d been itching to get there since they’d signed the lease, eager in a deep way he hadn’t expected.

Intentionally difficult to enter, Yuuri treks through the hallway and their bedroom on his way, absently picking up a soft blanket. The sliding door is about half the height of all the others in the apartment, and opens with a weighted glide to the right.

Inside, everything is soft.

It’s fairly early in the morning, Viktor having kissed him goodbye on his way to the office just a few hours ago. Warm sunlight glows through the thin strips of frosted windowpanes that edge the low ceiling. The den is big enough for a generous futon, and the floor and walls are lined with plush, cream-colored pads. Yuuri drops the blue blanket he’d grabbed from their bed onto the futon, then gets to work unwrapping and arranging the pile of blankets and pillows from their factory-sealed and scent-free containers.

He’d always thought it was a bit of a joke when it showed up on television or in books, the stereotypical pregnant omega need to nest. However, setting up this space just as he liked it soothed something primal inside him, giving him a measure of control with each soft placement.

This is a room for Yuuri and Viktor only. A safe place for their family to grow and rest.

In the corner, there are two small cradles with soft edges and no ornamentation, empty but full of promise. Yuuri sits down and rubs his swollen ankles, gaze unfocused in their direction. Soon, very, terrifyingly soon, they’ll be full.

A true luxury, there is an attached bathroom to their den itself. Yuuri busies himself there as well, setting out their toothbrushes near the sink and supplies -- so very many, very tiny diapers -- in the drawers of the changing table. By the time he’s gotten the shower and bath supplies arranged neatly, Yuuri is a few steps beyond exhausted, even with frequent breaks to rest. Pregnancy has drained all his stamina.

The sound of the door to their den sliding open causes a sudden spike of fear, but the familiar scent on the air quickly confirms that it’s just Viktor. That must mean it’s nearly dinnertime, and he’s spent the entire day getting this space ready.

“Sweetheart?” Viktor’s voice has that same happy undercurrent he’s had for months now.

“Be right there,” Yuuri says, even as his delight at the endearment causes his face to flush a tiny bit. Hormones. Love and hormones.

The sight of Viktor in their den, barefoot and already changed into something soft, does something serious to his heart and causes his eyes to become unreasonably misty.

Viktor’s before him in an instant, cupping his face. He still isn’t good with words of comfort, but he’s mostly learned that with Yuuri a touch is all that’s needed. Yuuri leans into his warm palm.

“I’m fine,” Yuuri says, voice still a bit choked up. He straightens his spine and smiles. “How was your day?”

“Definitely not as productive as yours. This looks lovely, Yuuri.”

Something deep inside him preens. “It took a lot longer than I thought it would, but I’m glad it’s all set now.”

“I bought a few more things,” Viktor says, tone a little sheepish even though he can’t fight the urge any more than Yuuri can, to prepare. _A few_ is absolutely an understatement, there’s no way he could limit himself. “How are your feet doing today?”

Yuuri has a lot of pride and hates to be a burden, but he also is very miserably pregnant. He sits heavily on the futon and Viktor eagerly sits beside him, taking his poor feet into his lap and setting warm against his side.

Yuuri’s never really given a lot of thought to his own feet, but as Viktor gently rubs his swollen ankles and then down to his toes, careful and attentive, something inside him unfurls. “Do you like all feet or just mine?”

“I don’t have any particular feelings about feet,” Viktor laughs, “but I love every part of you.”

Yuuri melts against his side.

 

* * *

 

Viktor is famous and he (and his outfits) are a common feature on instagram. Even before they met, Yuuri would seek out his posts and follow other fan accounts for his daily dose of his idol. Now, those photos often contain Yuuri himself, tucked against Viktor’s shoulder for a selfie, and he preens a little at every one.

Since Yuuri spends most of his time as of late flopping miserably in their nest, he’s on the internet much more than normal. And, because he’s weak, Yuuri breaks one of the main rules: don’t read the comments.

_They’re not bonded you idiots, can you tell a real mark from a fake!? The omega clearly trapped him into it. Use your goddamn eyes. Viktor will probably be on the market in 6 months._

_I hope the babies look just like Viktor, they’ll be so cute!_

_You’re just salty you lost your chance. Have you seen Katsuki’s ass with the pregnancy weight? Goddamn._

Just people, talking uselessly, peering through a virtual window. Jealous that they’ll never have what Yuuri does. Still, the words stick in a dark place at the back of his mind, ammunition for a future surprise attack.

“You’ll be happy there’s no alarm tomorrow,” Viktor says, settling into their den bed beside him. From the way Viktor treats him with such sincerity, any doubts are a blatant and undeserved insult to his character.

“I don’t mind when your alarm goes off early,” Yuuri blatantly lies.

“Mmhmm, of course,” Viktor says. From the way he’s laying on his side, his silver hair spills over the pillow against his cheek, curling. “That’s why you always make that face.” He scrunches up his nose in an impression of Yuuri’s disgruntled morning look.

“As long as you turn it off quickly, it’s fine.” Yuuri turns off the thin line of lights that line the ceiling of their den, plunging the space into darkness.

It’s still more than three weeks until Yuuri’s due date, but they’ve been warned that twins usually come early, and time is heavy and too-fast. Viktor leans over and kisses Yuuri’s forehead, his nose, his lips; hands roaming to scent him all over. The calming aroma hits him like a heavy drug. Yuuri pushes back against the urgent call of sleep to scent Viktor back, nuzzling against his neck, kissing his well-loved but annoyingly not-permanent fake bond mark.

“I can’t _wait_ ,” Yuuri mumbles into Viktor’s neck.

“Me either,” Viktor purrs, stroking a gentle hand over his stomach. “Only a few more weeks! Hang in there, darling.”

“More like a _year_ ,” Yuuri complains. There’s no way they’ll be able to bond that quickly, it’ll be months after the birth in a best case scenario before his next heat. _Viktor can’t count,_ Yuuri thinks, scent-drunk and irritated. _I’ll have to be the one to teach our kids math._

Viktor pulls away and blinks down at him, head slightly tilted, before understanding dawns on his face. He presses a deeper kiss to the bite on Yuuri’s neck, and Yuuri threads his fingers through Viktor’s hair and pushes him closer.

The situation is very promising. It’s too bad Yuuri falls asleep before anything further development, exhaustion winning out.

 

* * *

 

When Yuuri wakes up and propels himself to the attached bathroom, the only thing on his mind is finishing quickly and crawling back into the futon and Viktor’s arms. It isn’t until he’s washing his hands that he can feel the clear and definitive difference in his body, and the sudden realization clears the sleepiness from his mind fully in a blink. He’s experienced false labor before, sporadically, but this is different.

This is actually happening.

There’s no way they’re even a little prepared. The false sense of control he’d felt while preparing their nest fades away rapidly, leaving Yuuri to breathe in the cool air and feel the enormity of it all like a blow.

One deep breath, and another, and another. Yuuri balls his hands into fists and makes his way back to Viktor, still asleep against the pile of soft pillows.

It takes a hand on his cheek before pale lashes flutter open. “Yuuri?”

“We have to go now,” Yuuri says, voice tight. He can smell himself and even over the stench of pregnant omega, the shrill notes of fear leaking out.

“All right,” Viktor says, and although his voice is rough with sleep, he’s calm, steady. He props himself up, brushes back Yuuri’s dark hair and presses a warm kiss to his forehead. It’s just what he needs, that steady belief that everything is going to be okay fortifying him.

Viktor gets dressed quickly and hands Yuuri a robe. It feels strange to leave the house in pajamas, but getting dressed would be even sillier. They have small bags of supplies already packed.

Makkachin is resting on her overstuffed dog bed, but she stands up when Viktor kneels down to give her a hug. He pets her soft curls and whispers something in her ear.

Yuuri takes out his phone and texts Phichit a request to watch Makka, which they’d discussed in advance. And then, even though he doesn’t want to, he adds, _we’re going to the hospital now_. By the time he’s done texting his parents and Mari, they start heading out the, bags in hand.

Ready or not.

 

* * *

 

One of the things Viktor is extremely grateful for is that Yuuri can sleep through just about anything: alarms, nearby construction, and the shrill sound of their children screaming their tiny lungs out. Viktor slips out of bed as stealthily as he can -- because weirdly that can wake Yuuri more than any sound -- and goes to cradle his newborn son in his arms.

He’s very, very small, from his delicate button nose to his exquisitely tiny toes. Viktor kisses the top of his black-haired head, scents him gently, and is pleased when he takes a bottle with minimum fuss. Children are exhausting and require every bit of their attention. Viktor tries to take more than his half of the burden, because of how much time Yuuri needs to rest and recover.

It had not been an easy birth. Both Yuuri and their children had to spend almost a week in the hospital, recovering and gaining strength. Viktor watches the dark shape of his lover under his pile of blankets, Makkachin curled up against his front.

Last year at this time, what was he doing? Sleeping alone with his poodle, inspiration lost. Viktor is so happy to be here now, much more sleep-deprived but filled with life and love.

Another shrill cry pierces the night: their daughter, no doubt jealous of all the attention her brother is getting. Yuuri stirs in their nest, then makes his way over to assist, bleary and rumpled. Viktor wishes he had more hands so Yuuri wouldn’t have to get up.

“Morning,” Yuuri says, soft, pulling their daughter against his chest. He shrugs out of one sleeve of his sleep shirt to give her better access to feed, carefully holding up her head. She doesn’t have much hair yet, just a few wispy white strands. If she’s anything like Viktor, her hair will darken to silver with time.

“Good morning, zoloste.”

“Why didn’t you,” Yuuri has to pause to yawn, “why didn’t you wake me?”

“I figured if they didn’t wake you, you needed the sleep.” Yuuri leans against his side, and Viktor feels warm, steady, content.

“I know this probably isn’t what you imagined,” Yuuri says.

Viktor waits for him to finish that thought. “Hmm?”

“When we met. It wasn’t even a year ago, god,” Yuuri rubs his tired eyes.

“You’re right,” Viktor agrees. “This isn’t what I expected at all. You always surprise me.”

Through the high windows of their den, the first light of dawn peeks through, blue and bright.

“A good surprise?” There he is, his confident Yuuri.

“Better than I could have ever imagined.”

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the delay! I hope the fluff is still worth it, even a few months later. Thank you very much for reading.
> 
> There is also some smut that may be appended after the fact, haha.


End file.
